


by the light of the moon

by squadrickchestopher



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Deaf Clint Barton, Denial of Feelings, Fae & Fairies, Fae Marc Spector, Fingering, Jealousy, M/M, Magic, Misunderstandings, Multi, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, POV Bucky Barnes, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sassy Clint Barton, Trans Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,135
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28052889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squadrickchestopher/pseuds/squadrickchestopher
Summary: See, the thing is, Clint’s been talking about this guy for ages. Keeps seeing him at fights, keeps running into him on the streets when he’s out doing Ronin things. And Bucky has been hearing for months about how hot he is (Bucky’s not sure how he knows, considering he’s never seen Moon Knight’s face, but Clint seems real confident about it), and how good a fighter he is. How he can be as harsh as moonlight, and subtle as shadows. Clint gets downright romantic for this guy, which Bucky just...thinks is unfair.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Marc Spector, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton, James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton/Marc Spector
Comments: 20
Kudos: 78
Collections: Winterhawk Bingo Round Two





	by the light of the moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [shatteredhourglass](https://archiveofourown.org/users/shatteredhourglass/gifts).



> I humbly lay this offering at the feet of [shatteredhourglass](https://shatteredhourglass.tumblr.com/), who does Moon Knight much better than me. 
> 
> Filling my jealousy square for WHB
> 
> ETA: now with a parallel story: [in the warmth of the sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384272)

“I think Moon Knight is a faerie,” is the first thing Clint says when Bucky walks in the door.

“Hello to you too,” he responds, pulling off his outer tac gear. It feels weirdly mundane to toss it all in a laundry basket, but it’s absolutely _covered_ in blood, and he doesn’t want to drip on the carpet again. “How was your day?”

“I think Moon Knight is a faerie,” Clint repeats, sitting up, and Bucky winces at the sheer number of bandages on him. Not that he’s much better, all things considered. He’s going to have to restock the first aid cabinet again. Between the two of them, they could keep a pharmacy open on their own, super soldier serum or not. “I’m not a hundred percent sure. But I’ll ask him..”

“That sounds like a very bad idea.”

“I live for bad ideas.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky opens the fridge, stares into the depths. “You didn’t make dinner.”

“No, because last time I touched the stove, it exploded.”

“No, you just—”

“Dramatic explosion. Destroyed the ceiling. Everything ruined. Never allowed to cook again.”

Bucky snorts, leaning his head against the coolness of the fridge. Clint never fails to amuse him, even when he feels like shit. “You want me to order something?”

“Already did. Should be here soon.” Clint grunts as he gets up, uneven footsteps walking Bucky’s way. “You okay? You look...bloodier than normal.”

“Rough night,” Bucky says, rubbing his face. He stares into the depths of the fridge without seeing anything. “Rough day. Rough everything.”

“Hydra in your head again?” 

Bucky shrugs, because he never knows how to explain it all. Hydra’s _always_ in his head, a constant mess of memories and feelings and other things that he can’t put a name to. “It’s a mess up here,” he says, gesturing vaguely, and he turns around.

Clint’s watching with him an expression bordering on tenderness, a little smile curving his mouth. Bucky never knows how to explain it, but with Clint he doesn’t have to. Clint doesn’t _get_ it, but he gets it, in a way no one else ever has. That’s enough for Bucky.

“Need anything from me?” Clint asks softly. “Hug? Whiskey? Blowjob?” He points over to where Alpine’s curled up by the window. “Kitten?”

Bucky snorts again, grabbing a water bottle and closing the fridge. “I’m okay. What’s this about Moon Knight?”

“I think he’s a faerie,” Clint repeats.

“Okay—” Bucky rubs his forehead.

“You know who I’m—”

“Yeah, Clint, I know who fucking Moon Knight is.” He sips his water. “Why does it matter? If he’s fae?”

“Really doesn’t,” Clint says. “In the grand scheme of things. But I kinda really wanna fuck him now.”

And for some reason, the thought bothers Bucky. It _shouldn’t_ —they have an open relationship, and they have since the first time they fell (literally) into bed together. As long as he comes home to Bucky, Bucky doesn’t give a shit about who or what Clint does in his spare time.

Or at least, he normally doesn’t. This, though—

See, the thing is, Clint’s been talking about this guy for ages. Keeps seeing him at fights, keeps running into him on the streets when he’s out doing Ronin things. And Bucky has been hearing for _months_ about how hot he is (Bucky’s not sure how he knows, considering he’s never seen Moon Knight’s face, but Clint seems real confident about it), and how good a fighter he is. How he can be as harsh as moonlight, and subtle as shadows. Clint gets downright _romantic_ for this guy, which Bucky just...thinks is unfair. 

He tunes back in to hear Clint still going on about Moon Knight. “If you’re cool with it,” he says, and Bucky realizes he’s supposed to say something now.

“I don’t care,” he says, which is a safe thing to say, even if it’s both true and not true. Bucky has no idea what he just agreed to, but at least Clint seems happy about it. He beams like the fucking sun and kisses Bucky’s split lip.

“You’re the best,” he says, easy as anything, and turns to go flop on the couch again.

_Sunshine and moonlight_ , Bucky thinks, watching him go, and he’s not really sure what to follow that thought up with. So he opens the fridge and grabs something to eat, then disappears upstairs to his room for some quality brooding.

* * *

Clint vanishes for three days.

Bucky doesn’t worry—well, he does a little bit, but mostly he’s distracted by Doombots, and doesn’t have time to think about it. He only really notices when he stumbles home and Clint’s not there, _again_ , and he has to stitch up his own arm.

By the seventy-hour mark, though, he does start to get a little concerned. Their general policy is three days before calling out search parties, but neither of them has ever pushed it this far before. Bucky’s not really sure what to do about it. Who would he even call for help? The only person he wants around is Clint, and Clint’s gone—

The door opens, then, and Bucky looks up in time to see a figure in white enter. He jumps to his feet, hand going for his gun, but then a familiar voice says, “I could’ve walked my damn self up—”

“No, you couldn’t,” comes the amused, but quiet voice from under the hood. Bucky puts the pieces together at that point, sluggish brain recognizing the figure of Moon Knight, who is carrying Clint through the door.

“Did you break him?” Bucky asks, and he’s surprised by the tension in his voice, the way his fingers are still curled around his gun.

“No,” Moon Knight says, and dumps Clint on the couch. Clint doesn’t look broken, all things considered—he mostly just looks dazed, a little loopy, a little dopey.

Well-fucked, really. That’s what he looks like.

Bucky swallows down his flash of emotions and glances at Moon Knight. He can’t read an expression through that white mask, which unnerves him. “You were gone a while,” he says, not sure which one of them he’s talking to.

“Fae time is different,” comes the quiet response. “It was only a night, for him. But I watched the time. I kept him safe.”

Bucky nearly thanks him, before he cuts himself off. “Appreciate it,” he says instead, and he can’t _see_ the smirk, but the body language is more than enough to make up for it.

Moon Knight looks away and leans down, brushing the sweat-damp hair from Clint’s forehead. Despite his protests about walking, Clint looks like he’s half-asleep, a tiny smile curving his mouth as the gloved hand makes contact.

“See you next time,” he says, and Moon Knight chuckles before disappearing out the window.

“We have a door,” Bucky mutters as he gets up. _Fucking show-off._ “You want some water?”

“Dude,” Clint says. “You have not lived until you’ve attended a faerie orgy. And yes. Water.”

Bucky freezes. “You—”

“I only let him fuck me,” Clint says, cracking open an eye. “Just watched the rest. But holy shit, Bucky, those guys are _wild_.” He stretches, back popping horrendously. “You should come with next time.”

“To the faerie ring?”

“No, Spector said he can just pick me up now—”

“Spector?” He can’t help the little curl of anger in his voice. “What, you fuck the guy once and now you’re on a last-name basis? You know he’s a crazy vigilante, right?”

Clint stops, eyes opening a little more. “You’re mad,” he says.

“I’m not,” Bucky says immediately, even though he kind of is and he doesn’t know why. “Did you give him your name?” Not that it _really_ matters, because—

“He already knew it,” Clint says. “Yours, too. Not like it’s a secret, with all the Avengers stuff.” He sits up, eyeing Bucky with what looks like mild concern. His hair is tousled, cheeks flushed, and Bucky grits his teeth against the wave of feelings that threatens to overwhelm him. He’s never been like this before—he literally picked Clint up from a fucking sex club one time and was fine about it, he doesn’t know what’s so goddamn special about Moon Knight—

“Oh,” Clint says, and his expression softens. He holds out a hand. “C’mere.”

Bucky goes, helpless to do anything else. “I’m not mad,” he says again, and he _thinks_ it’s true. “I know I said it was okay—”

“You’re jealous,” Clint says, and Bucky grits his teeth, because yeah. He is. He shouldn’t be, but he is. Clint, for as terrible as he is at his own feelings, is uncannily good at reading Bucky when he wants to be. “Why?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I don’t—I shouldn’t be. It’s not fair to you.”

“Emotions are hard,” Clint says, adjusting a hearing aid. “We got a weird thing going on, you and me. Do you not want me to see him again?”

“No,” Bucky says immediately, because that’s not what he wants at all. “I—no. That’s not it at all.”

Clint studies him for a moment, then tugs him into a kiss. Bucky kneels easily, kissing him back. Clint tastes like his usual self, but there’s also a hint of _otherworldly_ to him now, like a tingle on his lips. Bucky would be hard-pressed to explain it, but he likes it, he likes it _so much_ —

_Oh_ , he thinks, as Clint tugs Bucky’s shirt off. He’s only got pants on himself, and Bucky’s metal hand follows a familiar path under the waistband even as his mind travels this new idea, suddenly and unexpectedly turned on at the thought of being fucked by—

“ _Yeah_ ,” Clint breathes, grinning against his mouth as Bucky’s fingers slide into him. He’s already wet—no surprise, honestly—and Bucky knows how to get him going even more, Clint’s body more familiar than his own at times. He curls his fingers, watching with fascinated eyes as Clint’s back arches. “Oh—Bucky—”

Bucky’s other hand comes up, gently tracing the scars on his chest before thumbing over a nipple. “Spector do this to you?” he asks. “Huh? Get his fingers in you like this?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, eyes glassy. The sound of Bucky’s fingers in him is _obscene_. “Fingers, dick, you name it. He— _fuck_ —was kinda surprised, but— _Jesus_ , Bucky—fae are apparently— _oh god_ —very trans friendly—“ He pants, losing the thread of his words as Bucky curls his fingers again.

“Good,” he says, pinching and rolling a nipple. “I’d kill him if he wasn’t.”

“No, he was great—” Clint arches again, grinding against his fingers as his eyes meet Bucky’s. Bucky thinks again about doing this, driving Clint wild with his mouth and his hands while Spector fucks him from behind. It’s unreasonably hot, and he—

Clint yells, tightening around Bucky’s fingers as he comes, his own hand scrabbling at the couch. Bucky works him through it, not backing off until Clint’s white-knuckled grip loosens, his breathing slowly evening out.

“God,” he finally says, pushing weakly at Bucky’s hand. Bucky pulls his fingers out, sticks them into Clint’s mouth. Clint licks them clean, tongue swirling around the metal, and that’s unreasonably hot too.

“I want in,” Bucky blurts out, enraptured with the way Clint’s looking at him.

Clint tilts his head. “In?”

“You said. Fae orgies. I want—I want to go next time. See what you’re getting into.” _Get Moon Knight into me._

Clint studies him again, and then a slow grin spreads over his face. “You _are_ jealous,” he says. “You want him to fuck you, don’t you?”

Bucky is not entirely responsible for the noise that comes out of his mouth, and Clint’s grin gets Cheshire Cat wide.

“I’ll make arrangements,” he says, and Bucky nods, because he’s only a man. He can’t help his weaknesses. Which apparently now include somewhat crazy moon-themed vigilantes, in addition to blond disaster archers.

“I’d like that,” he croaks. “Please.”

“Please,” Clint echoes, and despite his apparent exhaustion, rolls off the couch and flattens Bucky to the floor in an undignified tumble of limbs. “Love it when you get sweet on me.”

“Shut up,” Bucky mumbles, leaving his hands where Clint pins them.

“Never,” Clint says, and leans down to kiss him again.

* * *

Moon Knight— _Spector_ , Bucky remembers later—is surprisingly on board with the whole thing. Bucky walks into the apartment after a relatively low-key day, tossing the mask onto the kitchen counter when suddenly—

“I hear you want me to fuck you,” says a low voice, and Bucky whips around, one hand going for his gun. There’s a flurry of white, movements too fast for Bucky to follow even with super-soldier eyes, and then he’s being crowded against the wall with a gloved hand around his throat. Spector is _good_. He fights dirty, too, which Bucky respects even as his new injuries make themselves known.

“Moon Knight,” he says, voice tight, and scowls at him. “Who let you in here?”

“Nobody,” Spector says. “I used the window.” He’s not wearing his mask, and Bucky’s half-surprised to find messy brown hair, and a pair of dark eyes that he likes more than he should. “Clint told me I could. Also, you guys need better security.”

“There’s nothing for anyone to take,” Bucky says. “And if someone breaks in while we’re here, they’ll regret it.”

“Fair.” He lets go, stepping back. “So. Was Clint right? You’re interested?”

“Yes,” Bucky admits, because there’s no point in denying it when his dick is already trying to make his interests known. The hand around his throat didn’t help much; he’s always been a sucker for that move. “He’s been going on about you for awhile, you know.”

“He’s a good man,” Spector says quietly, and Bucky gets even _more_ turned on, because people respecting Clint is apparently very attractive to him. “I like him. That’s why I’ve been helping him, when Khon—when I can. When things work out.”

“Good.” Bucky fights the urge to rub at his throat. “Where is he?”

“He’s in the Feywild. I brought him there earlier.” Spector holds out a hand. He’s glimmering a little bit, some otherworldly magic seeming to hang around him. “I’m here for you now. If you’re coming.”

It’s both a hot idea and a tiny bit alarming. “Honestly, I kinda feel like you’re luring me into a trap.”

“I might be,” Spector says, face utterly blank, and Bucky finds himself both annoyed and attracted to the way he can’t read Spector’s expressions even now, when he’s maskless. The man has an iron control over himself, which is...funny, given his personality issues. “But if you _don’t_ come with me, I’ll be insulted.”

It _sounds_ like a joke, but Bucky can’t really be sure. “Ma did tell me never to insult the fae,” he says anyway, ignoring how _weird_ it is to be bantering with the Moon Knight. Also, he’s not sure if his ma ever actually told him that, but it’s out there, and he’s not going to explain his memory issues to this guy.

Although of all people, he’d probably get it the most.

“Come on, then,” Spector says, the words a little challenging. Like he doesn’t think Bucky will do it.

Bucky’s never been one to back down from a challenge. He puts his hand in Spector’s, and the world around him _shifts_ , the apartment being traded for a softly wooded area, trees stretching tall around him with an otherworldly grace.

Bucky barely has time to look around before his arms are full of Clint, who’s already naked and grinning up at him. “You’re here,” he says.

“I’m here,” Bucky agrees. “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

“I wasn’t sure.” Clint kisses him, then turns to eye Spector. “Were you nice about it?”

Spector shrugs. “He’s here, isn’t he?”

“Rotten bastard,” Clint says, with a hint of fondness to it, and Spector offers a smile that seems to change his whole face. He really is hot, Bucky decides, and can officially say so now that he’s seen him with the mask off.

Clint starts tugging at Bucky’s clothes. “Get this shit off,” he says, and Bucky lets him, looking around as his clothes are unceremoniously removed. There’s other fae here. He can see them now, moving with each other in a subtle rhythm. There’s more the more he looks, eyes slowly adjusting to the dim lighting of the glade. It’s pretty clear what they’re doing.

“Faery orgy,” he says to Clint, who shrugs and nods. “Doesn’t look too wild.”

“Just wait, they’re only getting started. You’re still cool with it?” He tugs Bucky’s pants down.

Bucky shrugs too as he steps out of them. “Fine by me.” He’s not sure how interested he is in getting fucked by anyone other than Spector, but he’s willing to at least entertain the idea of watching _Clint_ get fucked, if he wants it.

Who is he kidding. Clint _definitely_ wants it.

“You’re the best,” Clint says, and kisses his thigh before standing again. “So.” He shoves Bucky at Spector, making him stumble back into the other man’s arms. “Get to it.”

Spector snorts as he catches Bucky. “Impatient, aren’t we?”

“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” Clint says, voice strained even as his hand slips between his own legs. “So. Yeah. Get to it.”

Bucky stares at him, eyes wide. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Clint do this before, but here, in the Feywild, with other eyes on them, and knowing that he’s about to get fucked—

Well—

Spector’s hand traces over his shoulders. “He looks good,” he murmurs, rough voice making Bucky shiver. “Doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, watching Clint’s rapturous expression. “I—yeah.”

Spector chuckles, hand tightening around the front of his neck. Not enough to restrict breathing, but enough to be noticeable. “You liked this, earlier.”

Bucky nods. He’s always liked it, or at least as long as he can reliably remember. Mostly only from Clint, because there’s a lot of trust there, but there’s something inherently _hot_ about standing here naked, back pressed to layers of clothing as Spector thumbs over his pulse. “Yeah.”

“Man of many words,” Spector says, and Bucky flushes red. “S’alright. I don’t mind.” He tugs Bucky down to the surprisingly soft ground and tips his head back, mouthing along the curve of his jaw. “Anything I should know about?”

“I’ll tell you if something comes up,” Bucky says, and that seems to be enough for Spector. He nods before claiming Bucky’s mouth in an awkwardly angled kiss, desperate and filthy. Bucky moans into it, twisting so he’s half-turned against Spector, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair. There’s that tingle again, that taste of something _more,_ ever better than when he was kissing Clint last time. Bucky moans again, licks into his mouth in search of it—

“Goddamn,” Clint mutters, and Bucky breaks it off to look at him, noting the trembling of his thighs and his glistening fingers. “You two— _fuck_ , that’s hot.”

Spector chuckles dryly. “Having fun, I see.”

“I told you he’d be into it,” Clint says, and the idea that they were talking about him sends a flash of heat through Bucky. “Just had to get him here.”

“I know,” Spector says. “I believed you.”

“You getting undressed at all?”

“No.” He pushes Bucky forward, a forceful movement that sends him to his hands. Bucky nearly gets dizzy with how much blood rushes south in that moment.

“That is also hot,” Clint says, dropping to his knees next to Bucky’s head. He winds a hand into his hair, tugs him up a bit. “Come kiss me.”

Bucky kisses him, his little shout of surprise muffled as Spector pushes a cool, slick finger into him. He thinks briefly about things like lube and condoms, but then figures there’s probably some fae bullshit to cover that and it’s fine.

“Don’t worry about it,” Clint murmurs against him, reading Bucky’s mind like he always does. “I asked. It’s all fine.”

Bucky takes his word for it, pushing back against the finger, body begging for more. Spector obliges, adding a second and a third as he slowly works them in and out. Bucky bottoms for Clint enough that he doesn’t necessarily _need_ it, but he’s not about to protest otherwise. Between Clint kissing him, and Spector’s fingers, his whole body feels fucking _electric_. He doesn’t know if it’s fae magic, or something else entirely, but he’s already on edge from just this little bit and it’s so fucking good—

“Fuck him,” Clint finally says, pulling his mouth away from Bucky’s. “He’s ready.”

“ _Nngh_ ,” Bucky says, and Spector laughs from behind him.

“Sounds like it,” he agrees, and then he’s pulling his fingers out, replacing them with his cock. There’s another tingle up his spine, fuzzing and melting his bones as Spector steadily pushes into him.

“Clint,” Bucky manages, voice trembling as much as his hands are. “Clint, I—”

“I know,” Clint murmurs, still holding onto him. His eyes are on Spector, though, and the way his fingers are tightening around Bucky’s shoulders tells Bucky that he’s probably getting ready to go again. “Jesus, Buck, I wish you could fucking see this—”

“I can _feel_ it,” Bucky says, voice tight, and Clint laughs.

“I bet you fucking can,” he murmurs. “He just about killed me the other night.”

“You liked it,” Spector says, voice a little lower, and he leans forward, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s dick. Bucky drops his head to look, then immediately snaps it back up again, the sight of the white glove around his cock almost too much for him. He’d like to make this last, at least a little bit.

“I loved it,” Clint agrees. “Bet he screams louder than I did.”

“Yeah?” Spector asks, a grin in his voice, and he snaps his hips forward. Bucky’s answering moan is loud and embarrassing. “Mm. You’re right.”

Bucky drops his head down, back arching in a long line as he buries his face in his arms. “Fuck,” he says to the ground, shuddering as Spector starts really moving, sending sparks up his spine. “Fuck. _Fuck!_ ”

“Hey now,” Clint says. “If you’re gonna be down there, might as well make yourself useful.” And he taps Bucky’s arms, nudging them aside and settling himself between them. “Come on. You know what I like.”

Bucky does know, and when Clint tugs his hair, he gets to it. It takes him a few moments to get his steadily melting brain to focus, licking at him with a steady determination. Clint’s little gasps and moans are the only encouragement he needs, the sound of them almost more electrifying than the way Spector is fucking him.

Bucky shifts a little, manages to get a couple fingers in on the action. Clint bites off a sharp yell, arching against his mouth. “There you go,” he says, breathless. “That’s it, right fucking there—”

He doesn’t let up, fingers gripping Bucky’s hair almost to the point of pain as he spills a stream of babbling words. Bucky doesn’t let up either, eyes up to gauge Clint’s writhing reactions to every twist of his fingers.

Clint lets out another loud moan, almost enough to rival Bucky’s, and shudders one more time before going limp against the grass, chest heaving. “Christ,” he mutters, reaching down weakly to knock Bucky’s hand away. “Fucking—”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, and can’t help his little smirk. He loves this, loves getting Clint off that way. He’d do it all damn day if he could, just for the rush that comes with knowing _he_ made Clint sound like that—

“Don’t get cocky,” Clint says, the snarkiness of the comment belied by his trembling hands.

“Not,” Bucky argues, and Spector laughs quietly behind him.

“Sounds like it,” he says, grinding his hips in a slow, dirty motion that makes Bucky whimper.

“He is,” Clint agrees. He sits up a little. “Fuck it out of him, would you?” 

Spector laughs again. “You asking me for a favor, Barton?”

“Not a favor if you were gonna do it anyway,” Clint says, and there’s a noise of agreement before Spector starts fucking him harder, fingers curling around Bucky’s hips with a bruising effort. He lets himself go with it now, gives himself over to the sensations now that he knows Clint’s taken care of for the moment.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, fingers grasping at the grass underneath him. “I’m— _shit_ —I’m gonna—”

“Oh, you can last a little longer,” Clint says, lowering himself until his mouth is by Bucky’s ear. “Make him work for it, or he’s gonna get full of himself.”

“I can _hear_ you,” Spector grunts, and Clint snickers, dragging his tongue over the shell of Bucky’s ear.

“I know you can,” he says, voice still low. “But that’s half the fun.” He rubs his fingers over Bucky’s neck. “Can you hold off a minute for me? I wanna hear _you_.”

_Hear me what_ , is what Bucky starts to say, but then a long moan escapes him instead. He picks his head up enough to see Clint’s eyes light up, so he does it again. He’s not particularly loud in bed anyway, but he knows Clint likes hearing him, likes the noises he does manage to pull out.

“I need—” he says after a minute, though, because as much as he wants to be good for Clint, he’s also getting really fucking desperate.

“I know,” Clint says soothingly. “I know. Just a little more.” He’s not even looking at Bucky, his eyes are on Spector, and Bucky feels like he should be offended, but it’s really just kind of hot. He doesn’t know how much longer he’s going to last—Spector’s doing his best to utterly melt Bucky’s brain—but he can try, he can try for Clint, he fucking _loves_ him—

“Now,” Clint says, at the same time _that_ thought hits him like a freight train, and Bucky comes untouched with a sharp gasp. He collapses forward, arms shaking too hard to hold him up anymore. But Clint catches him, like he always does, and holds him through it, murmuring nonsense things in his ear as he brushes Bucky’s hair off his forehead.

Behind him, Spector’s hips stutter. “Fuck,” he mutters, and then he’s coming too, pulling out in time to lay long wet stripes across Bucky’s bare back. Clint swears quietly, fingers gripping Bucky’s arms.

“Fucking incredible,” he says, voice low, and Bucky just nods, overwhelmed by it all. He feels loose and floaty, like time is moving around him. Like he’s been melted, and he’s just kind of sloshing around in a container.

_Weird fucking metaphors_ , he thinks, and starts snickering to himself as he topples to the side, head resting on Clint’s thigh.

“Did you break him?” Clint asks, a hint of laughter in his own voice as his fingers gently curl through Bucky’s hair.

There’s a rustling of fabric behind him. “You two seem to put a lot of faith in my abilities,” Spector says dryly. “I’m good, but I don’t think I’m _that_ good.”

“You’re great,” Bucky reassures him, maybe slurring a bit. He blinks up at Clint, at the tangle of blond hair and blue eyes and sunshine smile and—

_Yeah_ , he thinks, a little punch-drunk. _Okay. You love him._

“You’re great,” Clint echoes, reaching a hand forward and grabbing Spector. He pulls him into a kiss, more filth than anything before letting him go. “So who’s gonna fuck me now, huh? Had to sit there and watch that little display, I’m kinda feeling left out.”

Bucky lets out a weak laugh. “Left out? Just about made you yell my damn name to the whole Feywild. You weren’t _left_ out, what kinda bullshit is that?”

Clint grins. “Alright, fine. Question still stands.”

“I need a minute,” Bucky says, and tips his head to look at Spector.

“I also need a minute,” he says, already tucked back into his pants. His face is more relaxed now, younger looking, and Bucky likes it more than the blank, brooding look of before. “I’m not a machine, you know. I’m just a regular fae.” His eyes are sparkling with amusement, the faint glimmer around him maybe a little more visible than before. 

“Uh-huh,” Clint says, sarcasm dripping from him. “ _So_ regular.” He sighs, dramatically flops back on the grass. “Do I need to wander elsewhere to satisfy my urges?”

“Go for it,” Bucky says, and there’s no jealousy to his words this time. Just a low heat at the thought of Clint being in the middle of faeries, on his knees and surrounded by them—

Clint raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? You mean that?”

“Course I do,” Bucky tells him. “I got what I wanted.”

And he did. He still has feelings for Clint, beyond any parameters they’ve discussed before, but he’s okay with waiting for that talk. Whether he just likes the guy or whether he’s in love with him, Clint’s _fuck-it_ nature—literally and figuratively—is what drew Bucky to him in the first place.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Clint says. “You got yours, so now I’m left to wander the Feywild in search of company? That the case?”

Spector rolls his eyes. “He whine this much to you?”

“Always,” Bucky says. “He thinks it’s charming, but it’s not.”

“It’s so charming,” Clint says, grinning at him, and it absolutely is, but Bucky’ll never admit it.

“It’s not,” Spector says. “I promise.”

Clint flips them both off, and Bucky laughs again. “I don’t care,” he says. “If that’s what you want, go for it. I’ll watch. Maybe join in later.”

“You’re the best,” Clint says, kissing him again. He nudges Bucky off himself, rolls up to his feet. “Specs, anything I should know about?”

“Don’t call me _Specs_.” Spector winces. “And no. Don’t be stupid. Don’t tell ‘em your name. Don’t eat anything. You know the rules.”

Clint nods. He blows a kiss at Bucky, then makes his way into the slowly growing crowd of fae, all of whom look at him with varying degrees of interest. 

“We’re gonna have to rescue him,” Bucky tells Spector, who just nods knowingly.

“We’ll give it a few minutes,” he says. “Let him get it out of his system. Then go get him and see if he’s up for another round. Sound like a plan?”

“It’s a deal,” Bucky agrees, and a faint smile splits Spector’s face.

“Shouldn’t make deals with the fae,” he murmurs. “Ma didn’t tell you that one?”

“I think I’ll be okay this time.” Bucky offers his own smile. “Don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Spector says, his eyes tracking Clint in the crowd. “I think you’ll be just fine.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr!](https://feedmecookiesnow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> beta'ed by vexbatch and greyishbobbi, thank you both for your insight and suggestions! <3


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